Exiled
by darcyfarrow
Summary: To protect Henry, the gang leaves Rumplestiltskin behind in Neverland. When she learns why, even Belle doubts whether he should be given a second chance.
1. Chapter 1

The town is too absorbed in its welcome-home celebrations and its post-Pan self-congratulations to notice the lone librarian standing at the foot of the gangplank. She searches each face hopefully, her eyes widening in surprise as David and Snow herd a dozen children past her toward waiting cars. Side by side, Emma and Henry follow, and just a half-pace behind them is the man that Belle's Lacey memories tell her is Baelfire–presumed dead, but now miraculously brought home.

Hook, the last to leave the ship, is alone, just as Belle is. He stops at the head of the gangplank, watches her as her eyes frantically scan his ship. He runs his hand through his hair as he deliberates. Anyone can see what she's thinking, especially a man who's devoted a good deal of time studying women's body language; anyone can sympathize with her, even a man who's devoted his life to seeking revenge.

Well, he's the victor now; he can afford to show some mercy. And maybe he owes the lass a little something, after his less-than-honorable attacks upon her.

He approaches Belle and clears his throat. "Ah, Miss, ah, French, I have some news for you. I'm afraid it's not good." _Not_ _good_ _for_ _you_, _but_ _absolutely_ _delightful_ _for_ _me_.

Her face is caught between hope and dread. Her lips part, but no sound comes out.

Hook finds it doesn't feel as good as he had expected it would to dig the dagger in one last time. He decides to get right to it, then, get it over with and then he can catch up to the others. If Emma won't allow him into her celebratory circle, he can always align with Regina. He arranges his features into a mask of sympathy and touches her shoulder. "The Croc-ah, Rumplestiltskin didn't come with us. He remains on the island. Permanently."

Now she manages a word. "W-w-what?"

"There was a vote," Hook shrugs. "He was found guilty and it was determined he should be left behind, barred from all society."

"He's. . .alone?"

"He can't be trusted, Belle. Surely you understand that." When she shakes her head, he persists. "He hasn't changed, no matter how fervently you wish he had. He will do anything, destroy anyone, to get what he wants."

"No," Belle insists. "He has a good heart. I've–"

"No, Belle." Hook squeezes her shoulder. "He tried to kill Henry."

"What? No. . . ." She sways and he has to support her.

"The day before the kidnapping. Henry was at the playground, and the Crocodile used his magic to stage an accident. Snow and Charming interrupted, else Henry would have been killed."

"That's a lie," Belle explodes. "He wouldn't-he loves children–he loves Henry–Henry is Baelfire's son!"

"He would have killed Henry then, if he hadn't been caught red-handed, and the only reason he went to Neverland was to finish the job."

"No. Why are y-you would do anything to get your revenge–"

"You can ask Snow or Emma." He makes his voice soft. "Or Baelfire. I'm sorry, lass. You deserve better." His good deed done, he walks away.

* * *

"We had no choice, Belle." To be heard over the laughter and the music, Snow has drawn Belle out to the alley behind Granny's. "He's too powerful to be stopped. The jail couldn't hold him. Leaving him behind was the only way to protect Henry."

"He wouldn't hurt a child! I lived with him for nearly a year in the Enchanted Forest; I've seen how he is with children. He adores them and he cherishes Henry!"

"He confessed, Belle. In front of all of us, he admitted he'd tried to kill Henry in order to circumvent a prophecy that predicted Henry would be his downfall." Snow gives the news time to sink in, but Belle fights it, shaking her head.

"You must have misunderstood."

"He admitted to it to Baelfire. We had no choice. Rumplestiltskin had to be banished. I'm sorry, Belle. In time, I'm sure you'll see we had no choice." With a last pitying glance, Snow walks away.

* * *

"Yeah. That's what he said." Bae's eyes shift uncomfortably. Emma is waiting across the street; he's anxious to leave, but when Belle phoned he felt her owed her something, though he doesn't really know her, so he came to the pink house. Like Snow, he assumes that once Belle is convinced of the truth, she'll begin to let go. She's a young woman, resilient; she will mourn, but eventually she will bury her memories and move on with her life.

Baelfire, on the other hand. . . .

"But to leave him behind–to abandon him–I understand it may have felt like it was only fair, after what he did to you, but–"

"That's not why we did it," Bae snaps. "And we all did it. We all decided."

"You didn't have to banish him. If he promised he'd never hurt Henry, he wouldn't go back on his word."

Bae emphasizes each word. "Yes, Belle, he would. He has."

An idea pops into her head and she seizes his arm. "The dagger! What if he gives you–"

"I thought of that, Belle. He claims his shadow hid it and it can't be found." Bae runs his hand over his mouth and glances out the window to the yellow Bug, where Emma waits. "I told him to send the shadow to go get it, but he claimed he'd ordered the shadow to refuse that request. He hasn't changed. He's a liar, a cheat and a killer, and I won't put my son or this town at risk by allowing him back here."

"He's a good man." But Belle's voice wavers.

"Do yourself a favor, Belle." Bae waves his hand around the house. "Don't stay here. Find a place where he's never been. Buy new clothes, a new hairstyle, get rid of anything that reminds you of the past, because he's not coming back." And Bae walks away.

* * *

Belle sits in the chair at the head of the dining table in the big pink house. Darkness has fallen but she hasn't turned on the lights, nor has she cooked dinner for herself. She sits with a cold cup of tea in her hands (but not the chipped cup; she can't bear to touch it just now). She tries to remember every nice thing about him: every kindness, every thoughtfulness, every mercy he's shown anyone. It doesn't take long, and visions of Henry keep interrupting.

Right now, it takes all the courage she has to face the truth: Rumple tried to kill Henry.  
Bae is right. Infatuation fooled her into seeing a man where there was only a monster. A child-killing monster.

* * *

An impromptu town meeting is called at Granny's to discuss the Sad Lady on the Hill. That's what the kids have taken to calling Belle, for since the _Jolly_ _Roger's_ return three months ago, no one has seen her on the streets, in Granny's, or even in the library, which Snow is attempting to run. Only Clark, who delivers groceries to the pink house once a week, has spoken to her; she won't open the door to Ariel or Ruby and won't return Archie's calls.

"It's been a year," Ruby grumps, turning expectantly to Emma.

"She's not doing anything illegal. I can't force her to come out. I talked to the bank: she co-owns the house and all his properties. She's within her rights to live there as long as she wants."

"But it's not healthy," Snow objects. "She used to be a lively, gregarious person. Isn't there anything you can do?" She turns to Archie.

"She hasn't done anything to indicate she's a danger to herself or others," Hopper answers. "All I can do, all any of us can do, is keep reaching out. Let her know that when she's ready, we'll be glad to help her."

"And if she's never ready?" Ruby folds her arms.

No one answers.

But in the back of the restaurant, Regina, uninvited but having shown up to the meeting anyway, listens. She smiles smugly: if Rumple could see what his selfish actions have wrought, he'd find that damn dagger and stab himself with it.

Beside Regina, Hook sips a whisky sour in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**A/N. Thank you, Grace, for noticing something I hadn't! I dedicate this story to you.**

* * *

Thanksgiving comes, and though Ruby snail-mails an invitation to Belle to celebrate the holiday at the Lucas home, Belle fails to reply. Thanksgiving goes.

Christmas comes, and Ariel knocks on the door of the pink house to invite Belle to go caroling on Christmas Eve. No one opens the door. Christmas goes.

New Year's Eve comes and the reunited lovers in Storybrooke forget, momentarily, about Belle. But on New Year's Day, Ruby resolves she'll figure out a way to drag Belle back into the land of the living. Just as soon as the diner's not so busy.

On January 21, Archie Hopper, having served in the fall as mayor pro tem, is sworn in as mayor of Storybrooke. Regina still has a year left on her term and the citizens didn't bother with a recall election when she returned from Neverland, but it was just generally assumed she wouldn't resume her seat in local government. She has the good sense to not fight this particular battle; the job had become stale, anyway, she tells Hook; now she has time to devote to planning her investment portfolio. The captain just raises an eyebrow.

* * *

The Sad Lady on the Hill has broken her self-imposed exile, but to everyone's surprise, it's not Archie or Ariel or Ruby that brings her out of the pink house: it's the nuns to whom she turns. Her father, upon hearing this, is insulted. "She won't take my calls, but she'll talk to strangers? We're not even religious."

Nevertheless, Belle is seen walking from the pink house to the convent, even though it's winter and the hike is more than three miles. She bundles herself in his coat and walks in broad daylight through Gold Estates, then follows the highway out of town to the secluded convent. When Regina's housekeeper calls her friend Granny to report this juicy gossip, and Granny tells Ruby and Ruby calls Emma and Emma calls her mother, Snow wonders, not, as everyone else does, why Belle has chosen the nuns, but what Belle means by wearing his coat. Is it an act of defiance, a screw-you to the people who exiled her lover? Is it her attempt to make them feel guilty? Is it her way of clinging to his memory? Whatever it means, Archie agrees, it's not healthy.

If anyone were to ask her (and no one ever does), Belle would've cleared up the mystery with eight simple words: "I don't have a coat of my own." And then Storybrooke would have remembered Regina's thirty-year imprisonment of Belle, and perhaps the gossip would have changed direction.

Clutching his coat tightly about her, Belle braves the wind and the stares, and she marches up to the convent, where the nuns usher her in, settle her in the warm kitchen and Astrid offers her coffee and soup before Mother Superior is sent for. "May I speak to you alone, please?" Belle asks, and rather than take her away from her cozy spot beside the stove, Blue sits down at the kitchen table and the other nuns scurry away, closing the door behind them. Blue pours herself a cup of coffee and gives Belle the broadest of openings: "How are you, Belle?"

It's obvious how Belle is. Her face is thin; her shoulders bowed; her eyes shadowed. She's been cutting her hair herself so she doesn't have to go out in public, and she hasn't done a very good job of it. She stares at the ring of moisture her coffee cup has left on the kitchen table, breaks the ring by slashing a finger through it. Her fingernails are jagged: Blue concludes she's been biting them. Belle shrugs and offers no other answer to the question.

"Do you think they did the right thing?" she blurts.

Blue buys time to compose an answer. "They who?"

But she knows full well what Belle means, and Belle knows it too. Belle pulls a mouth. "They! Snow and Emma and David and Regina and Hook. Leaving Rumple behind, alone on the island: was that the right thing?"

Blue tries to think of a response that will put Belle's mind at ease, but of course there is none, and to pretend otherwise would be disrespectful to Belle. "I think it was the only thing they could do," she says gently. "To protect Henry. To serve justice. If he didn't have magic, he could be jailed. If he wasn't immortal–" and then Blue remembers to whom she's talking and bites her lip.

Belle curls back her lips, Rumple-style, and finishes the sentence. "If he wasn't immortal, they'd kill him."

"The penalty for murder in our old land is execution. Rumplestiltskin killed a great many people in the Enchanted Forest, and his attack upon Henry shows he has no compunction against killing here either." Blue pauses, then allows emotion to get the better of her: "A child, Belle! He would have killed an eleven-year-old child!"

Belle's voice drops to a whisper. She's had months to think about it, to conjure excuses and test them to see if they can hold up as a defense, but every excuse has come up short. All she can say now is "Yes."

Blue realizes there is no progress to be made in arguing about the banishment, so she takes another tactic. "You have a lot of friends in this town, Belle, a lot of supporters, and we're all concerned about you. You seem to have decided to exile yourself too."

Anger flashes in Belle's eyes. "What if I have? It's my life."

"No, Belle," the nun pushes. "It's God's. He gave it to you for a reason. Don't you think you owe it to Him to find out what that reason is?" When Belle starts to reply, Blue cuts her off. "You may think your duty is to help Rumplestiltskin, but if that were the case, you wouldn't be in Storybrooke when he's in Neverland. Perhaps it was God's plan for you at one time to serve as Rumple's moral compass, but that time has passed. God has new work for you now; a new life is waiting."

"I think you're wrong." Belle looks Blue squarely in the eye. "Rumple is my True Love; my duty is and always will be with him. If–" then she corrects herself. "_Since_ he was desperate enough to attempt to hurt Henry, he needs help more than ever. He needs me."

"Belle, you have one of the gentlest, kindest hearts in the realm. Don't waste it on a monster. Rumplestiltskin chose his path long ago and not even you and his son together can lead him from it. He's pure evil. It's better for all of us that he is where he is-it's better for you, too. He would only drag you down with him."

Belle starts to object, but Blue reminds her: "He would have killed his own grandson, a child he's known since infancy. That's the worst act I can imagine. Can't you see how monstrous that is?"

"You haven't heard his side. How can you judge him when you don't know what's in his heart?"

For a moment, Blue becomes all fairy, casting aside all she learned as a nun: "Attempting to kill a child is enough for me to know that there's only evil in that monster's heart and that he's beyond hope!"

Belle gasps, and Blue forces herself to calm down. "I'm sorry, Belle. I'm not being very helpful, am I? And I assume that's why you came."

"I came to the wrong place." Belle stands. "I'm sorry I wasted your–"

"No, no, Belle," Blue urges. "I'm sorry. It was uncharitable of me to speak that way. Please sit down. You must have come to me for a reason; give me a chance to fulfill it. I promise to listen and not judge."

Belle narrows her eyes; she knows about the longstanding feud between her beloved and Blue, and she wonders if she was wrong to expect the nun side of Blue's persona to be strong enough to overcome that emnity. But there's only one other person who could answer the question she came to ask, and she doubts if Regina would be any more charitable than Blue. She sits down again and takes a sip of coffee, now lukewarm, to give her time to gather her thoughts. Blue waits patiently, also sipping her coffee.

"I came to ask if there's a way to communicate across realms, apart from sending messages back and forth with mermaids." Belle smiles ruefully. "Ariel is a good friend, but she has her own life to lead. And passing notes back and forth through a mermaid isn't the best way for lovers to communicate."

"I can imagine," Blue mutters. "There are magic mirrors that allow inter-realm communication; if you could get Regina to give you a pair, Ariel could deliver one to Rumplestiltskin and then you could talk to him. If he's willing to talk."

Belle's eyebrows shoot up. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"He may be angry. . . or depressed. . . or he may feel it's best to make a clean break-"

"No," Belle says firmly. "He wouldn't break off with me without saying goodbye. And I won't give up on him until I hear from him what was in his heart the day he tried to kill Henry."

"He admitted his guilt to Baelfire, as I understand."

"But he also went off with the others to save Henry, fully expecting he would die in the fight. Doesn't that prove there's good in him?"

Blue's mouth pulls in a straight line but she remains silent.

"I need to hear from him which man he is: the one who would kill a child or the one who would die to save one."

Blue nods. "Will you be at peace, even if the answer is not the one you hope for?"

"Peace?" Belle repeats. "No, there's no peace for me, whatever the answer is. But if–" she can't speak the thought aloud, so she doesn't try. "Regina won't help me. She hates Rumple, despises me, and I have nothing to bargain with. How do get the mirrors?"

Blue swishes a spoon in her coffee as she thinks. She too has nothing likely to win the queen's cooperation. Then she remembers the look she's noticed quite a number of times in Hook's expression, and she thinks she's found a solution. "Regina seems to rely on Captain Jones, and Captain Jones, I think, though he still hates Rumplestiltskin, feels some remorse for hurting you. Ask him to help you. If he refuses, you'll be no worse off than before–but I suspect he won't refuse."

* * *

Mayor Hopper is meeting with the chief of the Parks & Rec Department; they're discussing the department's budget and spending priorities. "Oh, by the way," Archie says, "send someone out to Riverside Park, will you, to repair the swing. Spring will be here before we know it, and we don't want any kids getting hurt on it." He doesn't explain why the swing needs repair; it's best to put such ugliness behind.

* * *

Someone's following him.

Hook has lived the life of pirate a very long time, so his instincts, as well as his commitment to the preservation of his existence, are well honed. He ducks down the alley between the Marine Garage and the auto supply store, and when his stalker catches up, his hook snakes out to seize the individual's coat. He pulls the stalker in only to find it's Belle he's sneering at. He releases her and steps back.

"I was hoping to talk to you, Captain." Belle straightens Rumple's coat. "In private."

A double entendre pops into his head, but since this is Belle he's talking to, he squashes the urge to flirt. He has yet to assuage his guilt for his crimes against her. "I would offer to take you to my home, but I've been living at the inn, and if it's all the same with you, I'd prefer not to enter his house."

"Above the library. I have an apartment there. I'll meet you there in ten minutes." She walks off without further explanation and without waiting for his reply.

So she doesn't want to be seen in public with him. He finds that intriguing-until he wonders if she plans to take revenge on him. Gods know he's given her plenty of reason to want to.

When he approaches her apartment (it's dusty and the flowers in the vase on the kitchen table have died), he remains standing on the landing and she doesn't invite him to enter. This relieves him: the conversation will be brief, then.

Without preamble (which also means without accusations or threats) she asks him to obtain for her two enchanted mirrors from Regina: enchanted to permit communication between realms. She will pay any price.

He can easily guess what she intends the mirrors for. His price, he says, is her forgiveness for his attacks upon her.

She blinks at him in surprise, then squints in distrust, then finally nods.

He bows elegantly. He doesn't notice that her eyes suddenly fill with tears in memory of another who used bow to her so elegantly. When he straightens he promises that he will return with the mirrors (and he will, he promises himself, even if he has to steal them).

* * *

The chief of Parks & Rec calls Archie. "So my maintenance guy was out at Riverside Park this morning. He inspected all the playground equipment; nothing was out of order."

"Are you sure?" Archie scratches his head. "The rope on the swing–did he examine it?"

"Yeah. He took a photo; here, I'll email it to you so you can see for yourself. No damage."

"Not even a little fraying at the top?"

"None."

"Thank you." As he hangs up, Archie mutters to the Dalmatian sleeping under his desk, "Maybe it was a different playground?" He suggests to Pongo that they redirect their evening walk to the school, the only other public playground in town.

* * *

Hook mulls it over and decides the less Regina knows, the better. He's been around magic often enough to tell an enchanted mirror from an ordinary one, so when he dines with her that evening, he slips a little something into her drink. As soon as her cheek touches down on the dining table, he begins his search–in her bedroom, where he assumes a woman like her would keep mirrors and magic.

He's right.

* * *

Archie leaves his office early, so that it's still daylight when he and Pongo arrive at the school. He inspects each of the three swings: all of them are connected to the frame with stainless steel chains.

He has a good memory for detail; nevertheless, he phones Bae to confirm the specifics. "A rope swing? Riverside Park?. . . I'm asking because it's not adding up. Here, see for yourself." And he forwards a photo of the swing at Riverside Park.

* * *

There's no light on in the library apartment and no one answers the door. Hook realizes he's going to have to go to the pink house after all. He finds his feet drag on the short walk to Gold Boulevard.

She opens the door even before he knocks. He knows it was his heavy boots striking the wooden porch that warned her of his approach, but he can't help wondering just the same if there's magic in the walls of this house, as he heard there had been in the Dark Castle. Although it's past eleven, she's fully dressed; this information pleases him, for it means she trusted him to come through for her, and to do so tonight. He wastes no time telling her she was right. She takes the plastic grocery bag in which he's carried the mirrors (rather inglorious packaging for items so precious, but he had decided against stealing anything of value besides the mirrors).

"Thank you," she says stiffly. "And my end of the bargain: I forgive you for everything you did against me." She swallows hard and her resolve breaks. "Including trying to kill my beloved."

He starts to protest: he doesn't want her forgiveness on that score, because he was right, damn it, to seek justice for Milah. But the woman standing before him brushes her palm against her cheek to swipe away a tear, so he lets the matter drop. To his surprise and dismay, she steps aside, pulling the door wide. "Would you like to come in?"

He shakes his head, but he steps in anyway. He can't help it. He's heard of the luxury in which the Crocodile lives (_lived_, he corrects himself); he wishes to see it, to spy upon the place where his enemy was most relaxed, most vulnerable. And he's curious whether there might be something here of Milah's. He steps in and finds he's in a dining room, one smaller than the size of the house would suggest. There's a cello in one corner and a guitar in another. There are books piled upon the table, the Crocodile's coat draped across a chair, framed photos on the wall: Belle, of course; Henry, at various ages; Bae, taken recently, and from a distance.

Hook returns his attention to the living, breathing woman. Belle seems small in the sweater she's wearing, a gray pullover that's too big for her.

Hook turns away. It's all too personal. Too humanizing.

"Would you like some tea?" she asks, because that's what civilized people do when they've forgiven each other. She doesn't really want him to stay; she's anxious to test the mirrors.

"Another time, milady. Good luck with the magic," he says as he steps out onto the porch, "and other things." He escapes into the night. His duty is done; he can sleep tonight.

* * *

Archie's cozy in his twin bed, the _Storybrooke Mirror_ spread out on his lap, his pillows plumped behind his back, his dog already snoring in a plaid doggy bed in the corner of the bedroom. But Archie can't concentrate, though he should, on the editorial about the challenges facing the new city council. He keeps wondering about swings.


End file.
